17.04.2013

In the House of the Hangman 1296

Pray the folds
don’t eat our micro-
cosmos
this ain’t
the science of
Glory
be a wayward
molecule in the
gap
between its own
front teeth
when it
sighs, Syringe me, darling
a permeable
trying to learn
some “self-
care” as they say
Blink three
times if you’re certain there’s love
left for me.
&

give me the
strength
to bear it
to enter those
places where the
great animals are caged.

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